RS Eagle Soar

Man, I can’t believe it’s been three years. How time flies, and how we have a way of putting some things out of our minds…maybe some things are better there, though, at least for a while.

I got a call around 8:00 am or something. For some reason I feel like it was a Tuesday. I was still sleeping. I had been spending endless hours working on my thesis. I would go to bed and stare at the wall across the room, mind spinning about a billion things, mostly though, looking back on it, it was fear of finishing my thesis. Anyway, I would be up late and when I would finally get to sleep I wouldn’t set my alarm unless I had to… Well one was set for me that morning; and I knew why she was calling as soon as I saw that it was Wendy.

I met Ramon at MDA camp when we were probably about 6… well I was, he was about 8 or 9. Mexican, slicked back hair and a rat tail. He had a chair but would still try to walk and stand. Ramon and I weren’t friends at first. My friend/rival was Ray, and Ray and Ramon were camp veterans and they often let me know it. Ramon was in cabin #1 and Ray, Bobby aka “Jellyfish”, and I were in cabin #2. We shared a lobby with cabin #1. Often times we would play hockey in the lobby during “rest period”; Ramon and Ray against me and Bobby. It was often very competitive, in fact, there were never any winners because we would often end up yelling at each other. When you are a kid sometimes loyalty runs thin. There was some issue that arose during one of the hockey games and all of a sudden the tides changed and it became me and Ramon against Ray and Bobby… and the friendship was born.

Years passed, and I watched my friend gradually decline. Every year, Ramon was not able to do something he had done the year before. It progressed from him not being about to walk or stand anymore, to him not being able to move his chair, to him not needing braces anymore because they were of no use, to him not being able to hold the hockey stick or swing the bat, to him not being able to feed himself, to him not being able to drive his chair unless his finger was placed on the joystick by someone else, to him not being able to breath without a vent.

But to know Ramon, you knew that it didn’t faze him. He wasn’t proud, he wasn’t insecure, he wasn’t worried or down on himself. It was as if somebody forgot to tell Ramon that he had a death sentence. His optimism was remarkable.

Me, being the unfortunate realist and vector of pessimism that I am would often wonder how he could be so optimistic… of course my pessimism and thoughts were firmly stowed away in my head until now. I remember one time in our teens, just the guys, talking big, and I remember Ramon saying something about kicking somebody’s ass. And I remember how sobering that was to me. How physically impossible that was, but yet I realized that Ramon had found a way to live a life without limits through others… For some reason that moment sticks in my mind.

As we grew into our late teens camp started to mean something different to me. I have talked about this in another blog. Reality was starting to sink in. I think I was about 17 or 18. It was summer and camp was just around the corner. I had heard that Ramon was in the hospital and they weren’t sure if he was going to make it to camp. Well, going to camp is about the best cure for anything, and I knew Moner would be there. But, the first day of camp rolls around and no Moner. The word was that he was still trying to come but not sure when. Tuesday, Wednesday, no Moner. The word was that he was going to make it to prom on Thursday. Being the sly guy that he was, he had already arranged a date for prom before he even made it to camp.

The week was weird for me. My partner in crime was not there. I was worried about him. I knew that he had a trach put in and that he was on a ventilator. This was very unsettling for me because it was such a step in the wrong direction. I had such mixed emotions about seeing him.

It was Thursday and he wasn’t there yet. Noon rolls around, afternoon activities wrap up, everybody is getting ready for prom, we have dinner; and no Moner. Everybody had made their way to the dance. I am anxious. Was he going to make it?… Finally the van pulls in. He made it.

But, to add to the frustration, there was one more hurdle to cross. As the van tried to turn around it bottomed out on a rock and got stuck in a precarious spot. There was no way to get Ramon out because it was bottomed out on the side that the lift was on. I remember the frustration and even anger. My long time friend Stan and I walked down to try and get help moving the van. The frustration boiled over and I remember Stan saying “all the kid wants to do is to go to fucking prom”. It was obvious that he too, was unsettled about whole situation…

Finally he it made to the dance floor… He was having a great time. But I was having a hard time seeing my friend attached to a ventilator. It was really, really hard for me to put that aside, knowing that this was pretty much the last step for him… But once again, somebody forgot to tell him…

Years passed and Moner and I stopped going to camp. He had finished school and worked at Camp Fish Tales, a camp started by former MDA campers that were too old to go to MDA camp. He seemed to be doing well. He had a lot of pride in Fish Tales. To some extent it gave him a purpose. I saw Ramon for the last time in 2003 at Fish Tales before I moved to Florida.

We talked once in a while by phone over the next couple of years. I had heard that he had been in and out of the hospital. In August of 2005, I was in the lab and I got a call from him. His voice was barely audible; “I am getting married” he said “and I want you to come”. Well it turned out that I had been debating whether to go home for another wedding the same weekend that he was suppose to get married. So hearing that news made my decision for me.

Well it turned out that she got cold feet. I went home for the other wedding and I missed out on meeting up with him while I was there. Two weeks later Wendy called; “Ramon passed away”. I said ok… but still haven’t processed it…

You go where I go…

It is the greatest of all advantages to enjoy no advantage at all.

- Thoreau